


Shoshana Prequel

by wheel_pen



Series: Shoshana [3]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Naughtiness, Vampire Violence, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon and Stefan meet a mysterious girl who tastes delicious and just won’t die. (A partial history of their previous interactions.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Shoshana, my original character, has a long and complicated history with Damon and Stefan. She has special abilities that could give them an edge over older, stronger vampires.
> 
> 2\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate being able to play in this universe.

_Early 1900’s, Vienna_

He could smell the blood, hot and fresh, as soon as he entered the house, and it took all his restraint to walk normally up the stairs, instead of pounding eagerly or even flying, which would surely raise the suspicions of their landlady. He fumbled with the keys, his fingers clumsy with excitement; he knew his brother would never get the door for him, and he didn’t dare break through again, once had been difficult enough to explain. At last he got the door unlocked and he entered the apartment, locking it again behind him with his eyes closed, trying to preserve one lone sense from being assaulted by the intoxicating atmosphere that warmed the room and set his body on fire.

When at last he dared to open his eyes—he paused. His brother was lolling in mid-air, blood coating his lips and spattered sloppily on his clothing, a deeply satisfied grin on his face. Not necessarily alarming, but not the usual, either.

“Damon?” Stefan asked questioningly. Carefully his eyes did not stray to the figure on the chaise lounge. “Damon? Are you alright?”

His brother giggled— _giggled!_ —before drawling, “Oh, I am _more_ than alright!”

“Are you drunk?” Stefan asked curiously.

“You need to taste her,” Damon responded instead. “She’s better than any spirits. You need a taste.”

Finally Stefan glanced at the girl sprawled across the couch. The top of her dress was unbuttoned, exposing full, creamy white breasts with a red gash above one, a ragged circle of indentations where Damon had bitten her. Her eyes were closed and her breaths shallow; she was alive, but just barely. For an instant Stefan felt a pang of revulsion: she was young and innocent, more innocent than _them_ if nothing else, and she didn’t deserve to be slaughtered for their food.

But then his eyes fixed on the blood, and he inhaled its rich scent, and his eyes started to redden and all thoughts of compassion fled.

He yanked off his jacket and Damon smirked from his hovering position. “She’s still alive? Good, finish her off. I don’t know how much is left.”

“Did you have sex with her?” Stefan asked in a business-like tone, noticing her skirts rucked up around her knees. He pushed them up higher.

“Can’t remember,” Damon shrugged without concern. “Once I got a taste of her, that was all I cared about.”

Stefan ran his hands lightly over her still-warm thighs, searching for a major vein or artery. Finally he let his fangs pop and sunk them into her flesh, retracting them after he’d punctured the vein. It didn’t take long for him to understand what Damon had meant.

He’d never passed out from drinking blood before—not really passed out, but wasn’t fully aware of the passage of time, lost in a delicious haze not unlike the time Damon had convinced him to try opium, only of a much longer and more satisfying duration. “Mmm, good, huh?” Damon muttered and Stefan repeated it dully, lying happily on the floor feeling the power of the girl’s life rush through his body, watching her pale hand dangle limply from the couch. “We should, erm, keep her,” Damon mumbled, fighting his own fog of pleasure in an attempt to create a plan.

“Keep—what?” Stefan replied blearily. Her fingernails were perfectly peach-colored with rounded tips, slightly shiny in the gaslight, and they mesmerized him.

“Give her some blood, make her healthy again,” Damon insisted, crawling towards her with determination. He’d floated gently to the floor a couple hours earlier. “Take her with us, drink whenever we want.”

Stefan felt there were some obvious logistical problems with this idea; but right now he couldn’t articulate them, and he really didn’t care. “Mmm, good,” he commented instead.

Damon snickered and pulled himself up to kneel beside the girl. Swaying unsteadily, but with great concentration, he slashed his wrist with a fang and held the cut up to her lips. The sight couldn’t hold Stefan’s attention and his gaze drifted back to her hand, uncallused, soft, the hand of a lady who did no manual labor for her keep, though her clothes weren’t of such high quality—“D—n,” he heard Damon curse, before his brother dropped back to the floor, gazing at him beneath the chaise. “Dead,” he went on with mild disappointment. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” Well, that had been Stefan’s plan anyway.

 

Sunlight slowly began to creep in through the curtains and Stefan reflexively checked to make sure his lapis lazuli ring was still on his finger. It was an old habit that seemed unwise to break. His head felt clearer, though the memory of how delicious last night’s feast had been still lingered. He deliberately avoided looking at the girl’s remains on the chaise as he stood; perhaps that was cowardly of him. He’d have to deal with her soon, when his brother—still happily semi-conscious on the rug—woke up and they had to make a plan to dispose of the body. But first, Stefan was going to get cleaned up, he decided, and speed-read through last evening’s newspaper, which he’d brought home but discarded somewhere in his haste to sample Damon’s latest acquisition.

Stefan headed towards the bathroom, still a bit loopy, and stumbled over a kink in the rug. He caught himself on the back of the couch—and there was a resounding _crack_ as a chunk of the frame snapped off under his hand, spilling stuffing across the floor. Damon made a noise of interest, or perhaps protest, from the floor. Stefan stared at the wood and fabric in his hand in surprise, then carefully set it aside. Another mishap that would be difficult to explain to their suspicious landlady, though Damon would simply want to compel her to forget again. He used that power liberally, often with sophisticated results; Stefan worried about the effect it had on people’s minds, if it left lasting damage.

Shaking his head Stefan decided he could use a drink instead and reached for a glass on the nearby sideboard. He held it delicately, imagining it as a baby duck for some odd reason, and managed to get it halfway filled with whiskey before he accidentally squeezed it too hard, spilling its contents all over the floor.

“Stop wasting the drink,” Damon ordered distinctly, though he had neither gotten up nor even turned around.

“I can’t control my strength,” Stefan admitted, the sensation curiously reminiscent of when he’d first been turned. “Be careful when you get up.”

Damon made a dismissive noise and shifted on the rug, promptly ripping holes in it as though he were lying on newspaper. Finally he opened his eyes. “I see what you mean,” he admitted.

“Maybe you should just lie still for a while,” Stefan suggested, seeing the whole of their furnishings reduced to shreds in his mind.

“That’s boring,” Damon declared. “I’ll just _be careful_.” With that he tried to stand with the assistance of the chaise lounge and promptly overbalanced it, thumping straight back to the floor with the girl’s body tumbling on top of him.

Gingerly Stefan helped to right the furniture. With only a slight hesitation he reached for the corpse—only to drop her again, startled, when she groaned.

The noise caught Damon’s attention as well. He rolled the girl off him to the floor and they both stared at her disheveled, bloodied figure for a moment expectantly.

“Maybe it was just—“ Damon silenced himself as the girl moaned again and turned her head, clearly of her own volition. Slowly her eyes fluttered open.

“You must have turned her,” Stefan decided. Which could be a rather momentous—not to mention inconvenient—event for them. New vampires were difficult to control and tedious to teach.

“She was dead,” Damon protested, no doubt making the same prediction as Stefan. And he wasn’t keen on taking on new responsibility.

“You must’ve given her some blood before,” Stefan continued thoughtfully.

The girl’s eyes focused on her surroundings and suddenly widened in fear. She attempted to sit up and scramble away from them but was hampered by her mussed clothing. Her mouth opened, perhaps to scream, and both brothers rushed to shush her.

“It’s alright, we won’t hurt you,” Stefan assured her.

“Yes, we’ve _already_ done that,” Damon offered unhelpfully.

The girl looked down at her ripped clothing and exposed flesh, and whether it was memory returning or just an obvious conclusion being drawn, her eyes filled with tears and she drew her knees up to her chin and started to cry.

Stefan picked his jacket up off the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders, feeling about as big as a mouse dropping, and just as valuable. “I’m sorry,” he told her inadequately, trying to slip his arm around her. “Please don’t—“

The pounding at the door startled them both. “What’s going on in there? Mr. Salvatore—“

“I’ll get it,” Damon declared immediately, jumping to his feet. “Give me Frau Michener over a sobbing new vampire any day.”

“Damon—“ Stefan turned back to the girl as his brother went to the door. “Shh,” he tried to tell her in a gentle tone, wishing vampires could be compelled like humans.

Damon opened the apartment door to the face of a scowling older woman. “Why, good morning, Frau Michener,” he said, lounging charmingly in the doorway. “Is there a problem?”

“Shh, it’s okay, we’ll explain everything,” Stefan promised the girl in a whisper. She jerked away from his touch a few times, then gave up and let him smooth her hair back soothingly. “You’ll be—fine.” The word caught in his throat.

The landlady’s face became blank, so quickly that even Damon looked slightly alarmed. “No problem,” she said mechanically, and turned away.

“Um, hmm,” Damon commented, shutting the door again. Apparently their physical strength wasn’t the only ability that had increased in power. “Maybe she’ll be easy to train,” he suggested idly as he rejoined his brother, “since her blood was so strong.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Stefan countered, trying to help the girl up to the furniture. She jerked away from him, clambering up herself.

 “Where am I?” she finally asked in a broken tone. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Damon claimed. “You’re going to be strong and fast, and you’ll never get old or sick. Oh, maybe we can find a witch to make her a daylight ring,” he suggested.

“Yes, that worked out so well last time,” Stefan reminded him dryly. “What’s your name?” he asked the girl.

“Shoshana,” she stammered.

“I’m Stefan, and this is my brother, Damon,” he introduced. “I know this is very confusing for you right now—“

“I want to go home,” Shoshana sniffled.

“G-d, that was predictable,” Damon judged boredly.

“Pl-please, I won’t tell anyone anything—“

“I’m sorry, you can’t go home,” Stefan told her in a regretful tone. “You may feel strange, aches all over—“ Damon yawned to show he found this dull. “Maybe you’d like to explain things to her?” Stefan suggested testily. “Since _you_ turned her?”

“I remember you,” Shoshana accused Damon. “You gave me spirits! I knew I shouldn’t have drunk any…”

“Well, next time you meet a man on a dark street, you can drink _him_ ,” Damon quipped.

“We should go into the bathroom,” Stefan suggested, moving around Shoshana to herd her. “The sunlight will start to bother you—“ Unexpectedly he caught a whiff of her scent and his vision reddened. He turned away immediately as she gasped in horror. “Sorry, I—“

Damon yanked her to him roughly and sniffed, producing the same reaction. “Don’t scream,” he told her as the veins around his eyes swelled. She didn’t, but instead squirmed in his grasp like a fish on a line. “Mmm, you smell good,” he added, inhaling deeply. “You’re not supposed to still smell good.”

With a sudden burst of inspiration Shoshana kneed him hard in the groin and made a run for the door. Stefan intercepted her, his motion so fast he almost made himself dizzy. “I’m sorry, you can’t leave,” he told her again. “I just don’t—“ Carefully, but firmly, he took her arm. “She still has a pulse,” he reported to Damon, who was climbing up from the floor where he’d fallen. “She’s not transitioning. You must have healed her.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Damon muttered, grimacing a bit. Funny how one could be nearly invincible, yet some areas were still vulnerable to attack.

Stefan looked deeply into Shoshana’s eyes. “You’re not afraid. You’re going to stay here with us and be calm,” he assured her.

She blinked. “No, I’m not! I want to go home! Let me go!” She made a desperate attempt to push him away from the door.

Stefan stopped her, trying hard to only contain her flailing limbs and not squeeze or break anything. “You try,” he told Damon, turning her to face him.

“Shoshana, calm down,” Damon ordered, less gently. “You’re going to be fine.”

Instead of calming, she started to cry again, and Stefan let her sit down on the floor in a helpless, weeping pile. “Please let me go,” she begged. “My parents—they’re so worried right now—I didn’t come home—“

Stefan sat down beside her and pulled her gently into his arms, steeling himself against her mouthwatering scent. Now was _not_ the time for that. “Shh, shh,” he told her, stroking her hair. Whatever guilt he’d managed to push aside the night before was back full force and he almost felt nauseous with it. “I’m sorry, Shoshana.”

“Why can’t she be compelled?” Damon asked in irritation. “If she’s not transitioning into a vampire then she’s still alive—maybe she’s got vervain on her.” He started to paw rudely at the girl’s clothes.

“Stop it,” Stefan told him, smacking his hands away. He understood his brother’s point, though. “Shoshana, do you have any kind of… herbs on you? In a piece of jewelry or a sachet, maybe? Anything at all?”

“If you do, give it to us and we’ll let you go home,” Damon promised. His word was not hard to doubt.

Shoshana shook her head. “N-no. What are you talking about?”

“That’s too bad,” Damon decided, reaching over to wipe a tear off her cheek. His expression was unusually pensive. “She’s so pretty. And she tastes so good. Oh well.” And he snapped her neck, before Stefan could react.

Stefan gaped at his brother, letting the once-more limp body drop from his arms to the floor. “What did you do _that_ for?!” he demanded.

Damon checked her pulse, then discarded her arm carelessly. “She’s definitely dead now,” he declared. “Well what did you expect me to do?” he asked of Stefan, peevish at his shocked expression. “It might’ve been fun to keep her, but she couldn’t be compelled to remain calm. You didn’t seem so concerned about her welfare last night,” he added pointedly, knowing the shame would shut Stefan up.

It did. He stood stiffly, carefully moving her body out of the way, and decided to leave his jacket wrapped around her. He thought about covering her face with it—as Damon, whistling jauntily, went to get cleaned up—but decided that would only elicit more mockery. And he would deserve it, hypocrite that he was. Stefan started to straighten up the furniture instead, carefully keeping his back to the girl. Maybe it was time to part ways with Damon again, to try the animals-only diet once more—the thought made him grimace automatically, but what he lost in sensual pleasure, and power, he felt he gained in peace of mind. Some days, he felt that was a good trade-off.

Damon, of course, would not be pleased. But he probably wouldn’t be surprised, either.

“So I met her down in the Students’ Quarter, she’s studying philosophy or some useless s—t like that for a couple years,” Damon was saying from the bathroom, “before doing the usual ‘get married and have kids’ thing.”

“You mean, she _was_ ,” Stefan corrected darkly, picking up her hat from the floor. He laid it on the couch, not wanting to put it with her body just yet.

“Oh yeah,” Damon realized, without concern. He walked out of the bathroom shirtless, relatively clean and drying his face with a towel that he ripped carelessly. “Saved her from _that_ soul-crushing fate.”

Stefan threw his brother’s jacket at him forcefully. “You could at least _appreciate_ what she did for—us,” he spat.

“She was a _meal_ ,” Damon sneered. “A _fantastic_ meal. But we’ll have to get another one in a couple days. Did you want to burn some sage to the Great Buffalo Spirit or something?” He’d been spending a lot of time at the natural history museum’s Wild American West exhibit lately.

“Shut up,” Stefan advised, picking up some couch fluff from the floor.

“I think I’m gonna go buy a new suit today,” Damon planned, admiring himself in the mirror above the mantle. He didn’t seem bothered by the girl’s body at his feet. “And if you stop whining, I’ll buy you that new nerve doctor book everyone’s talking about. Maybe it will explain what’s wrong with you.” Stefan rolled his eyes and continued cleaning. If he couldn’t keep the girl alive, he could at least keep their apartment tidy. Because that was almost as good. Damon noted the potent silence, a sure sign that brooding was about to commence. So he poked. “What are _you_ doing today?”

“I don’t know,” Stefan replied without interest. “Maybe I’ll go to the library.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “It’s so… _boring_ there. Like a tomb. You could get trapped in there and rot for all eternity.”

Well, that was an odd thing to say, but Stefan was used to odd remarks from his brother. “At least I’ll have plenty to read.”

“Come to the park with me or something,” Damon cajoled, his tone mildly conciliatory. “You’ll just sit in the library and self-flagellate, and come back sad and smelling like sheep.”

Stefan ignored the nonsensical ‘sheep’ bit. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s how I _should_ feel,” he snapped without thinking.

Damon pounced, mockery guns blazing. “Oh, poor little Stefan, _forced_ to enjoy a delicious sample of the _only food he can eat_.” Stefan did more harm to the clothes he was trying to gather up than he meant. “The food he _knew_ he’d have to eat when—“

“ _Enough_ ,” Stefan snarled, whooshing across the room and slamming Damon against the wall. He tried to be conscious of not damaging the structure, but his vision was getting red and he could feel his fangs itching to pop. Damon’s eyes blazed with surprise, followed by delight. He did love a good cathartic fistfight. But Stefan refused to indulge him, instead backing away. “I’m just—tired of listening to you.”

“Please. When have you ever listened to me?” Damon muttered peevishly.

“Go out if you’re going to.”

“Fine. I was just—“ Damon paused at an odd sound and they both turned to look at the body of the girl before the fireplace.

Which was moving.

“Holy s—t,” Damon swore, frustration mingled with wonder.

Stefan went to her immediately. “Shoshana?” He helped her sit up as she looked around with a dazed expression.

“My neck hurts,” she complained, rubbing it.

Damon knelt in front of her, intrusively close. “ _Now_ is she transitioning?” he wanted to know.

“She still smells good,” Stefan reported, mouth watering as he inhaled the air above her.

“And she still has a pulse,” Damon judged, not letting go of her arm. “Have I _really_ become so ineffective at killing people?”

“I just want to go home,” Shoshana moaned, tears forming in her eyes.

“You’re becoming boring, sweetie,” Damon chided cattily. “Let’s see if you still taste as good.”

“No no no, shh!” Stefan insisted, hushing the girl who opened her mouth to scream when Damon bared his fangs and bit down on her arm. “Shh, just don’t—Don’t look at him.”

“D—n. I think she’s even better,” Damon decided, pulling up after a little nip. “Go on, have some.”

“Shoshana?” Stefan pushed a lock of her hair back gently. “Do you mind if I drink some of your blood?” Damon scoffed wordlessly beside him. “I’ll try not to hurt you. It’s what we—“

“Stefan,” Damon said more urgently, and all three of them stared down at her bloodied arm. The bite wounds were healing shut before their eyes.

“What’s happened to me?” Shoshana asked in horror. Stefan met his brother’s gaze and realized they had no answer to give.

“Are you human?” Damon interrogated, eyeing her closely.

“Yes!” she sobbed.

“Well, obviously _not_.”

Stefan wiped some of the excess blood from her arm and discreetly licked his fingers. “Maybe she’s a witch,” he suggested.

Shoshana drew back, insulted. “I’m not a witch!”

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Stefan assured her. “Some witches are very nice.”

“She doesn’t taste like a witch,” Damon judged. He settled on the floor and stared at the girl unnervingly. “Are you hungry?” he asked her suddenly.

“Yes, awfully,” she confessed with a sniffle.

“What for?” he pressed. “Blood?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not supposed to eat blood,” she responded. “It’s not kosher.”

“But if blood were all you _could_ eat,” Stefan coaxed, “it’d be okay then. Exceptions are allowed for medical necessity.” Damon rolled his eyes.

“I guess,” she agreed dubiously. “But I don’t want _blood_. I want bread and cheese and fruit.”

“I’ve got bourbon,” Damon offered.

Here the girl narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin slightly. “I’m not drinking spirits again. It’s wicked and foul and turns men into beasts.” Stefan smirked slightly at Damon’s shocked expression.

“Well in this case it _keeps_ me from being a beast and ripping your throat out,” Damon snapped at her.

But Shoshana had been thinking. “Go ahead and try,” she shot back. “You already tried to kill me twice and it didn’t work! Maybe if you just _do_ it I’ll—“ Here she broke off, her anger flowing back into grief. Stefan rubbed her back soothingly as she cried into his shoulder. He suspected she was beginning to realize she couldn’t go home again, no matter what.

Damon was staring at her intently. “She’s very curious, isn’t she?” he said. Stefan had a feeling he was not just referring to her unusual healing ability. “She’s very pretty.” He reached out to stroke her hair, disturbingly intense, and Stefan batted his hand away.

“Why don’t you go out and get her something to eat?” he redirected.

“ _You_ get her something to eat,” Damon countered. “I’ll stay here and look after her.”

Well that sounded like the worst idea ever. “Let’s _both_ go out.”

“She’ll run away,” Damon predicted. “Unless we tie her up—“ He seemed to like this plan.

Shoshana, not so much. “We’re not going to tie you up,” Stefan promised.

“Buy her a new dress while you’re out,” Damon suggested to him. “This one’s torn.” As if _he_ hadn’t torn it.

“I can’t really just buy a dress,” Stefan protested.

“Well, get some fabric like this and we’ll sew it up.” Damon’s tone sounded very put out with Stefan’s unhelpfulness.

“You can _sew_?” Shoshana couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, two bachelors living together have to be resourceful,” Stefan told her, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“Have you ever done much traveling?” Damon asked Shoshana suddenly. “Would you like to? Vienna’s getting a little old, don’t you think?” He directed this last question at Stefan.

“Let’s talk about that later,” he demurred. He carefully dislodged himself from Shoshana and stood, then tugged on Damon’s shoulder to make him do the same. “I’ll go get you something to eat,” he promised her. “And we’ll try to get your dress fixed.” It seemed hardly adequate compensation for—whatever they’d done to her. “Are you going to be okay with her while I’m gone?” he asked Damon in a low voice, pulling him off to the side.

“Of course,” Damon replied, as if Stefan’s concern was totally unfounded.

“Just—leave her alone,” he risked saying. “And put some clothes on.” Damon’s expression said the lack of clothing had given him an idea. “Hey,” Stefan pressed. “I’m serious. Leave her alone.”

“What _is_ she?” Damon responded instead, staring back at her. She was examining her arm critically in the sunlight, pinching the skin and watching the red mark vanish instantly.

“It’s probably not really that interesting,” Stefan tried, which was a fairly outrageous lie. “Just, um—herbs, or a witch charm. It’ll probably wear off soon.”

Damon finally looked back at him. “She’s not wearing a witch charm, you idiot,” he hissed. “She’s Jewish. They’re not into that.”

“Well—“

“Don’t you ever read anything useful at the library?” Damon went on scornfully. “Stop by the occult section next time.” Stefan hated it when Damon had good ideas.

“I won’t be gone very long,” he promised. Or warned. “Don’t get into trouble.”

“Do I ever?” Damon asked innocently.

 

When Stefan returned, later than he’d meant, the apartment reeked of alcohol and Damon sat stonily in a chair—dressed, at least—staring at Shoshana, who was curled listlessly on the broken couch. “What happened?” Stefan asked with a sigh.

“Missy here bashed me in the head with a decanter of whiskey,” Damon reported chidingly. “Cut her hand up pretty good.”

Stefan went to her immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, by the way,” Damon added pointedly, and was ignored.

Shoshana turned her palm towards Stefan. It was perfect, plump and unblemished. “Am I a demon?” she asked him softly, a tremor in her tone.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said soothingly, reaching into the bag he’d brought. “Here.” He handed her an apple, which she seized upon and began consuming rapidly.

“Are _you_ a demon?” she asked in between bites.

“Um—well—“ Stefan sputtered.

“Yes,” Damon avowed.

Stefan glared at him and sat down on the couch beside Shoshana. “Actually, we’re vampires,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Like… Dracula?” she questioned dubiously.

“No, not like Dracula,” Damon snapped. “Haven’t you read the book? Dracula is ugly! We’re not ugly.”

“I’m not allowed to read books like that,” she responded primly.

Damon zipped away and reappeared almost instantly, proffering the book. Her eyes widened in amazement at his speed. “You can read whatever you want here,” he promised. She took the novel slowly.

“Um, I got you some fabric,” Stefan added, opening another parcel. “I know it’s the wrong color…” It was, in fact, candy floss pink, while her dress was dark green.

“Oh, how pretty,” Shoshana breathed, seemingly genuine. “I’ve never been allowed to wear pink.”

“Are you _blind_?” Damon sneered at his brother.

Stefan stood abruptly and motioned him to the other side of the room while Shoshana pawed through the other packages, uncovering the bread and cheese. “People are starting to notice she’s missing,” he informed Damon quietly.

“It’s only been—less than twelve hours!” Damon insisted.

“I ran over to the Students’ Quarter,” Stefan confessed and his brother made a noise of exasperation. “There was a policeman asking questions. They’re not taking it seriously yet,” he hastened to add, “but people say she left with a man. Right now the police think she might just have run off with a boyfriend. But if she doesn’t turn up soon, more people are going to be looking for her.”

Damon growled under his breath, frustrated and confused. This was definitely more than he’d bargained for from a simple meal and he was still trying to figure out if it could be useful to him.

Suddenly he looked up. “Shoshana! Get away from that window!” He sped across the room, yanking her from the glass and pinning her against the wall.

“I just wanted to see where I was!” she protested, kicking at him futilely.

“Well someone outside might see you, and _that_ wouldn’t be very good for _us_ , would it?” he snapped at her.

“Shoshana, do you want to go home?” Stefan asked boldly. Damon made noises of dissent as he let Shoshana go, but Stefan cut him off. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how long it will last,” he confessed. “But if you want to go home, we’ll let you.” Damon said nothing, merely twisted his face into a grimace and looked away.

Conflict raged on Shoshana’s face. “I don’t want to be a demon or a witch,” she said softly. “People would—I don’t want them to be afraid of me.”

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Damon said suddenly. “You can wait a few days. Maybe it will… wear off.” He didn’t sound convinced. But really, none of them had any idea what would happen. Maybe she _would_ return to normal, and they could let her go home while they skipped town ahead of the authorities.

“I’m very tired,” Shoshana announced, by way of response.

“You can have my—“ both brothers started to offer at the same time. Stefan decided to let Damon make the gesture. “—my bed. I’ll sleep with Stefan. Not that we _need_ to sleep…”

“Thank you,” Shoshana replied mechanically. She gathered up her food, the fabric—and the Dracula novel.

“On the left,” Stefan guided, pointing back towards the bedrooms. “The bathroom’s—“

“She _knows_ where the bathroom is, I already showed her,” Damon chided him.

They both watched her go. “What the f—k have you gotten us into?” Stefan sighed, with unexpected vehemence.

“Oh, you were in it all the way, little brother,” Damon reminded him. And Stefan knew that was absolutely true.


	2. Chapter 2

The estate was isolated and beautiful, a steal to rent for the summer, even factoring in the cost for the repairs that Stefan suspected they’d be charged. They made themselves scarce one day a week when the servants came in to clean and tend the lawn—the perfect excuse for a daytrip to town or a cruise on the Black Sea—but otherwise they had the whole place to themselves. It offered a blissful freedom Stefan didn’t realize he’d been missing—no need to worry about running too fast, lifting too much, recovering too quickly from an injury. And no need for fights about drinking from humans versus animals—Shoshana was happy to accommodate them both and in fact got horrible headaches if they _didn’t_ take her blood. They had to feed her regular food, of course, but that was easy enough; both Stefan and Shoshana enjoyed cooking, and Damon was willing to do it on occasion as well.

Damon seemed more at ease as well; though he said nothing about it, he had taken up sketching again and spent hours drawing Stefan and Shoshana, bits of the house and grounds, people they used to know. Stefan liked to see his brother’s energy channeled into a productive pastime.

The only dark spot had been the nightmares Shoshana suffered from—who could blame her, Stefan thought, especially since Damon enjoyed chasing her through the house and yard at night, like a rabbit pursued by a rabid wolf. He claimed this somehow made her blood better, gave them more power from it—Stefan wasn’t so obsessed with accumulating strength, so he tended to overlook whatever subtle change might have occurred. Shoshana repeatedly assured him she didn’t _really_ mind anyway, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Damon managed to find the solution to the nightmares, though, which conveniently worked out quite well for himself: sex. If he and Shoshana had sex, she didn’t have a nightmare that night. All Stefan could do was roll his eyes as Damon gloated; Shoshana seemed to enjoy herself perfectly well from the sounds he couldn’t help overhearing, so he supposed there was no reason to interfere there, either.

And yet. There was something about her, and being Stefan he spent a good deal of time alone thinking about it. He cared about her, of course. Maybe he even loved her. He didn’t think he was _in_ love with her—but it definitely wasn’t a sisterly-brotherly kind of love, either. He studied her face while she was reading, eyes quickly flicking back to his own book if she looked up, and wished he could draw like Damon so he’d have an excuse for staring. She was very affectionate and liked to give hugs, something that was frowned upon by the stiff, formal era they were currently experiencing—which didn’t matter here on the estate, where her natural inclinations could be expressed. They could give all the hugs they wanted, run around improperly (barely) dressed, even play a game of wrestling as long as the boys were careful not to hurt her. Freeing, yes, but also occasionally awkward for Stefan, when a touch seemed to linger too long or her casual dress captured too much of his attention. He didn’t want to spoil things. But that could happen all too easily, as well he knew.

“It’s so hot,” Shoshana remarked, leaning back on the blanket they shared on the lawn. Stefan turned away quickly to get her some juice from the hamper beside them as she started to unbutton the top of her dress even more—she was always torn between wearing the beautiful, brightly-colored dresses they’d bought her, or her cooler, plainer underthings. He’d just eaten an hour ago, so he didn’t even have the excuse of hunger for the way his gaze lingered on the pale skin.

“Do you want to go back inside?” he offered, handing her a cup. “Or the shade?”

She sat back up to take the drink, idly hitching her skirts up over her bare legs. Stefan scanned the surrounding landscape intently, as though looking for something of great importance. “No,” Shoshana decided, and he’d almost forgotten his question. “We should go swimming!” she suggested brightly, and Stefan stifled a groan. The standard Victorian bathing costume was, of course, scorned here. Which was alright when Damon was around to play with Shoshana, but with just the two of them… “The water would feel so lovely and cool,” she went on. She touched his hand and he fought the urge to yelp in surprise. “You and Damon always feel nice and cool in hot weather like this.” She trailed her fingers up his arm. “It’s nice to curl up against…”

“Um, hmm, where _is_ Damon, anyway?” Stefan stammered quickly, looking around with exaggerated care. “Was he in a bad mood last time you saw him? Maybe I should—“

Shoshana pressed lightly on his hand and he stayed in place, not wanting to hurt her on accident. “I think he’s just reading,” she dismissed. “He likes to do that alone sometimes, because I’m too noisy. Let’s not bother him.”

“So he’ll probably be reading… in the house… for a while then,” Stefan realized slowly.

Shoshana nodded at him, smiling a little in an expectant sort of way. She reached up to his open shirt collar, tugging on it a little. “Aren’t you warm in this?” she asked. “You could take it off.”

He already had the shirt almost fully unbuttoned anyway. “We don’t really get too hot,” he reminded her, swallowing hard as her hand drifted under the fabric to his bare shoulder.

“Oh, of course,” she replied. “I always forget that, it’s so silly of me—“ She broke off, pulling her hand away and looking embarrassed.

Stefan couldn’t stand for that. “No, it’s okay,” he assured her, dangerously cupping her cheek and turning her face towards him. “It’s a lot to remember…”

“I like being here with you,” Shoshana said softly.

His gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips as he unconsciously leaned closer. “I like being here with you, too,” he agreed, and in that moment there was no one else in the world.

And then suddenly, there was Katherine.

Not physically, of course. But the memory of her was strong, even through the haze of compulsion from his human life—Katherine dancing at a party, Katherine laughing behind the stable, Katherine giving him that long, dark look in bed, the one that meant her fangs were about to pop. And he could never picture Katherine without also seeing Damon, glaring at him so fiercely from the side, even though Katherine had no problem playing them both at once. The face that made him pull back and awkwardly scramble off the blanket was not, ultimately, Katherine’s.

“I’ll—um—I’ll be right back,” he promised, and shot into the house.

Stefan hoped he’d be able to think more clearly out of Shoshana’s presence, but even in the dim, slightly stuff interior of the house, his mind was in turmoil. He replayed every gesture, every syllable—had he done anything wrong? Had he crossed a line he never wanted to see again?

“Quit pacing. The floorboards squeak,” Damon called from the library, and Stefan reluctantly dragged himself to the doorway. “Oh G-d,” Damon sighed when he saw his face. “What have you done now? You didn’t spill something on Shoshana’s dress again, did you?” They could both live without a repeat of her chin-trembling attempt to not be upset by her favorite outfit’s ruin.

“No,” Stefan assured him, in a tone that said there was something else.

“Well, spit it out,” Damon commanded, going back to his book. “You’re boring me with this heartbreaking silence.”

Stefan positioned himself on the edge of a low table across from Damon. “Shoshana’s very…” No, he didn’t want to sound like he was blaming her. “I almost kissed her. Just now.”

He looked up, apprehensive—and saw Damon still studying his book. “What, did you trip and miss or something?”

“What?” Stefan asked in confusion.

Damon finally made eye contact. “Why did you only _almost_ kiss her?” he clarified, as though this was foolish.

Stefan stared at him hard, waiting to see if this was the vitriolic precursor to anger. “I know you and Shoshana are…” He trailed off, unsettled by Damon’s lack of response.

Suddenly his brother tossed his book aside and frowned. “Where is she now?”

“Out on the lawn,” Stefan explained. “I wanted to tell you, to talk to you about—“

“Are you telling me,” Damon began slowly, and Stefan braced himself, “that you were about to kiss Shoshana, and then you just _abandoned_ her on the lawn, so you could come in here and whine to me about it?” He narrowed his eyes. “That’s awfully heartless of you, Stefan.”

Stefan gaped at him. “You’re not mad?”

Damon relaxed back against the couch. “Shoshana’s been throwing herself at you for weeks, you moron,” he revealed, the insult flying right past his brother. “You’ve been so oblivious, I’m embarrassed to be related to you. I mean really—wrestling matches? How much more obvious could we get?”

“You’re _encouraging_ her?!” Stefan sputtered.

“Hmm, didn’t think you were going all prudish,” Damon observed. “Though you always did pick up on social trends better.” This was not a compliment.

“You don’t mind if Shoshana and I are lovers?” Stefan checked, giving him a hard look.

Damon met his gaze. “As long as you don’t mind that Shoshana and _I_ are lovers.”

He didn’t. “Because we’ve had trouble with this in the past,” he couldn’t help but add, bone-dry.

A cloud flickered across Damon’s face and he reached for his book again. “Hardly the same thing,” he muttered. Then, louder, “Go back outside to her before she starts crying, you idiot.”

“Okay,” Stefan agreed slowly. “Are you sure?” He had to ask one more time. Damon gave him a long-suffering look and Stefan decided that if for some reason his brother wasn’t being honest, then he was being just plain stupid. “Okay,” Stefan repeated, and in an instant he was gone.

He arrived back on the blanket in seconds, startling Shoshana. “Sorry,” he told her, a bit breathless even though he didn’t need to breathe. If his heart could still beat, it would be pounding in anticipation. He touched her cheek gently, a replay of his previous gesture, and saw the moistness in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” He leaned in and kissed her without hesitation, her lips warm and soft under his. After a moment he pulled back and smiled at her.

Shoshana threw her arms around him, knocking him to the ground. “Stefan, I love you _so much_ ,” she avowed. “And I want you to love _me_!”

“I _do_ love you,” he assured her, kissing her again. “I just—needed to talk to Damon first.”

Shoshana nodded thoughtfully. “You’re a good brother,” she judged.

Stefan couldn’t help grimacing slightly. “Let’s not talk about that now,” he suggested, pulling her close.

 

**

 

Vampires didn’t really need to sleep. But it was nice to relax for a while and process the events of the day, and dreaming could be pleasant. Still, Stefan didn’t have any trouble sitting up, fully alert, when he heard a noise that didn’t belong, sensed an extra presence in his room. Fortunately, his visitor wasn’t into playing mind games and she appeared at the foot of the bed with a smile.

“Lexi!” Stefan greeted with pleasure, climbing out of bed to embrace her.

She pulled back and smirked. “Guess we know who wears the pants in _this_ family,” she grinned. She was wearing a pair of trousers—flying in skirts was an exercise in frustration—and Stefan wasn’t wearing anything at all.

“Oh, sorry,” Stefan replied, looking around for some pants. He wasn’t so much embarrassed by his nakedness as the lack of manners he felt it implied. “Have you been in the area long?”

“Well, I’ve been circling around for ages, looking for you,” Lexi told him as he dressed, mock-exasperated. “I missed you last November, and I thought you’d be in Vienna.”

“Oh, yeah, we had to leave Vienna,” Stefan agreed, grimacing. “Long story. I’m glad to see you, though,” he added, hugging her again.

“You look good,” she decided, assessing him clearly by moonlight the way only a vampire could. “Mmm, you smell good, too,” she went on, sniffing him. “What _is_ that?”

For a moment Stefan couldn’t think what she meant. “Oh, you’re probably smelling Shoshana,” he realized. He expected the girl’s scent was all over him by now, including his clothes and the sheets.

Lexi’s expression indicated extreme interest. “Who’s Shoshana?” she wanted to know.

“You’ll love her,” Stefan promised. “She’s amazing! She’s like no one I’ve ever met before—“

Lexi laughed at his obvious excitement. “Good! I can’t wait to meet her. About time you hung out with someone nice for a change.”

Stefan knew exactly who she meant by that. “Well, Damon’s in the next room,” he admitted and Lexi rolled her eyes. “And Shoshana’s probably asleep right now. You can meet her in the morning.”

“Intriguing,” Lexi decided. “Did you manage to get her one of those fancy rings?” she asked, indicating Stefan’s ornate, ever-present lapis lazuli ring.

Stefan knew he’d been away from other vampires too long when he had to think a moment to understand her meaning. “Oh, no, Shoshana’s not—“

“Mm, look what the cat dragged in,” Damon sneered from the doorway, lounging in just his trousers and suspenders.

Lexi didn’t acknowledge him but rather headed for the large balcony outside Stefan’s room. “Well, I better grab a bite to eat before the sun comes up,” she told Stefan. “I take it you don’t mind if I stay for a few days?”

“No, not at all,” he assured her, giving Damon a warning look. “But you don’t have to go out for food, you can feed from Shoshana.”

“ _No she can’t!_ ” Damon objected immediately, with surprising vehemence, as he plunged into the room.

Lexi looked between the two of them in confusion. “You keep a human around to snack on?” It didn’t really seem like Stefan to use a human that way—or like Damon to keep one alive that long.

“Well, Shoshana’s not exactly human,” Stefan replied slowly, trying to figure out what boundary he’d crossed that had triggered Damon’s anger.

“Shut up!” Damon snapped at him. “She’s ours, we found her, and we aren’t sharing her with anyone!”

Lexi’s eyebrows shot up. “Well of course I would ask Shoshana if she was okay with it first,” Stefan promised his brother, though it was difficult to believe that was his objection. He turned back to Lexi, not wanting her to think him heartless. “I’m sure she _wouldn’t_ object, Shoshana loves to help people—“

“We’re not sharing her,” Damon reiterated, eyes turning red and fangs popping. Stefan stared at him, open-mouthed in shock. “Because now I can finally do _this_!” Moving so fast he blurred, Damon charged Lexi, knocking her straight through the window onto the patio below.

Stefan jumped after them, shouting at Damon to stop but otherwise not sure how to intervene—Lexi was considerably older than they were and usually whenever Damon was foolish enough to challenge her she put him in his place quickly.

But tonight it seemed to be taking a bit longer than usual.

“Damon. Damon, stop!” Stefan insisted, grabbing his arm and dragging him off Lexi. “What are you doing?!”

“Just showing her who’s boss _now_ ,” he replied nastily, his features going back to normal as Lexi struggled to sit up on the crushed pavement.

Stefan went to help her. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, never having seen her take that kind of treatment before. He pulled her to her feet but as soon as she was upright, she grabbed his arm and spun it around behind his back. Damon growled, ready for the next round. “Uh, what are you doing?” Stefan asked her curiously.

She let him go and he turned back around to face her. “I should’ve broken your arm just now,” she revealed, “even if you’ve been drinking human blood.”

“You were trying to break my arm?” Stefan checked dubiously.

“You’re not drinking human blood,” Lexi concluded suspiciously, “and you’re obviously not drinking animal. So what _are_ you drinking?”

Right on cue Shoshana appeared in the doorway, dressed in her nightgown and robe. “What’s going on?” she asked, starting to venture outside.

Damon caught her right away. “Careful, there’s broken glass,” he warned. He kept his arms around her in a proprietary way.

“I’d like to know what’s going on, too!” Lexi declared, hands on her hips.

Stefan decided that made three of them, but manners had to come first. “Shoshana, this is my friend Lexi,” he introduced. “I’ve told you about her.”

Shoshana smiled suddenly. “Of course! I’ve heard so much about you!” She started to walk forward but Damon stopped her. “I want to give her a hug,” she hissed.

“No,” he replied shortly.

“Lexi, this is Shoshana,” Stefan finished hurriedly. “We met her in Vienna.” Shoshana settled for waving.

Lexi approached her slowly, a curious look on her face. She sniffed the air as if confirming the scent she’d noted earlier. “Try to bite her and I’ll rip your throat out,” Damon threatened.

“That’s _not_ very nice,” Shoshana told him, and he shushed her.

Lexi took another few steps closer. “You smell so—“ Suddenly her eyes reddened and her fangs appeared. Immediately she spun around, hands covering her mouth. “I’m sorry—“

Damon went into defensive mode anyway, snarling and baring his own fangs again. This time Stefan threw himself between them, or rather, against Damon.

“Lexi, are you—“

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and shot off towards the woods.

“Lexi!” Stefan called, frustrated to see his friend driven off. “Could you _please_ stay here?” he said to Damon in annoyance, then took off after her.

“This is all very strange,” Shoshana noted.

“No kidding,” Damon agreed, as though he’d had nothing to do with it. “Let’s go back to bed.”

 

Stefan found that if they pulled all the curtains shut, most of the house was safe enough for Lexi to be in, despite the sunlight. Of course, this also made the house extremely warm and stuffy. Which didn’t bother most of them, except for Shoshana, who was determined to be a proper hostess in a full, formal dress. She sat upright on the couch, served hot tea, and did her best to keep the conversation light and pleasant; but the others could see she was sweltering.

“Let’s go down to the wine cellar,” Stefan finally thought to suggest. “It’s cooler down there. We can have—an indoor picnic,” he added encouragingly.

“I love picnics,” Shoshana agreed.

“And _I_ love wine,” Lexi added saucily. Shoshana’s eyes narrowed slightly; she’d been a determined teetotaler since Damon had gotten her drunk. However, she was far too polite to remark on this to her guest.

“It’s kind of scary in the cellar, though,” Shoshana hedged, and the three vampires looked at her, unsure how to respond to this. “There might be spiders!”

Damon took decisive action and stood, grabbing her hand. “Stefan will protect us from the spiders,” he declared. “You know how much he likes bugs.”

“I’ll bring some food for you,” Stefan promised.

“I’ll help you,” Lexi offered, not really wanting to be in Damon’s presence without Stefan as a buffer.

A few minutes later Stefan carried a picnic hamper down the cellar steps, while Lexi followed behind with some books and playing cards. There was a tasting room just outside of the wine storage area, though it wasn’t really set up for long-term use and Stefan wasn’t sure how comfortable they’d be.

Although now, he saw, the small room had a couch crammed into it.

Shoshana bounced on the center of the cushion excitedly. “Look, Damon brought the couch down here! Isn’t he clever?”

“Terribly,” Stefan replied, as his brother grinned smugly. “Are you hungry?” he tempted, indicating the hamper. “Would you like me to slice you some apples and cheddar?”

“ _I’ll_ slice it for her,” Damon insisted competitively, snatching the apple from Stefan’s hand.

“It’s so nice when you _both_ make me food,” Shoshana soothed, and Stefan began slicing up the cheddar cheese for her. Lexi watched this interaction with a raised eyebrow.

“Lexi was telling me something interesting last night,” Stefan prompted leadingly. “Oh, help yourself to the wine,” he added.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lexi agreed, perusing the selection.

“What was the interesting thing?” Shoshana wanted to know, consuming her snack.

“Well, I’ve heard rumors, from other vampires,” Lexi began, pulling a bottle from the shelf and returning with it, “about people who _aren’t_ vampires, but they can live a long time without aging, and their injuries heal quickly, and drinking their blood gives vampires extra power.”

Damon, Stefan noted, was paying very close attention now.

Shoshana, not so much. “Did you bring any crackers?” she asked Stefan hopefully. He had.

“What are they?” Damon finally asked.

Lexi shrugged unhelpfully, sipping a glass of wine. “No one knows. They’re incredibly rare… Most people just call them a ‘source’.”

“That’s kind of boring,” Shoshana judged. “Did you bring anything to drink?” Stefan dutifully handed her a flask of lemonade.

“Are they supposed to be able to eat their weight in cheese every day?” Damon asked teasingly, and Shoshana jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

“I’ve heard they have to be maintained properly,” Lexi replied dryly, “that they eat and sleep like humans, and have a heartbeat.”

“Where did you hear about this?” Damon wanted to know, but Lexi merely shrugged. “Are you being _coy_?” he demanded angrily.

“Careful!” Shoshana chided him as his movements threatened to upset her lemonade.

“Sorry.”

“I told you, they’re just rumors,” Lexi repeated defensively. “I couldn’t even tell you where I heard what.”

“Uh, I think you _could_ ,” Damon countered obnoxiously, referencing the vampire perfect recall.

“Damon,” Stefan murmured.

“Fragments, that’s all,” Lexi insisted. “The most I ever heard was from Dmitri Kolovich”—the boys wrinkled their noses in twin expressions of disgust—“when he was getting drunk in a bar in Murmansk one night. He started out coherent, and by the end he was saying they can fly and spin gold out of thin air.”

“I don’t think I can fly,” Shoshana mused, “but I’ve never tried to spin gold out of thin air. I’ll have to think about that. Did you bring any cake or cookies?” With a sigh Damon grabbed the hamper from the floor and set it on the couch next to Shoshana.

“There’s one other thing,” Stefan prompted, his tone serious.

Lexi looked as though she didn’t quite believe anything she was telling them, and took a long gulp of wine before continuing. “They _say_ that even though a source can give power to people who drink their blood, they can also be deadly. That if someone drinks their blood against their will, the blood turns to poison and kills the vampire. Final death.”

“That’s not true,” Damon sputtered. “I’ve bitten her lots of times when she didn’t want me to.”

“That’s just what I heard,” Lexi shrugged.

They sat quietly for a moment contemplating this, except for Shoshana, who was more interested in her cake. This did not pass Damon’s notice.

“Would you stop eating for two seconds?” he snapped, snatching the cake away. Lexi’s vague rumors had clearly unsettled him.

“But I’m hungry!” Shoshana wailed, bursting into tears suddenly.

“Damon, would you just—“ Stefan tried to direct.

“We’re sitting here hearing that you’re some kind of supernatural weapon, and you’re just gobbling cake like Marie Antoinette!” he scoffed, flinging the food back into the hamper in disgust.

“I don’t _want_ to be a weapon!” Shoshana sobbed. Stefan took the place of the hamper on the couch and put his arms around her. “I just want to stay here with you and read and eat cake and not get hurt. Except,” she added with a fresh wave of tears, “I miss my family…”

“Oh G-d,” Lexi exclaimed suddenly, wiping at her eyes. “Why am I crying? I never cry!”

“It happens sometimes,” Stefan assured her, indicating it was related to Shoshana. He gave his brother an expectant look over her shoulder, knowing she would never calm down until he’d apologized.

Damon sighed and gave in. “Come here, Sosie, it’s okay,” he told her, taking her from Stefan’s arms. “You can have your cake back. And you can read whatever you want.” Exhibiting rare tact, he did not mention her family in Vienna.

“Is it always this exciting around here?” Lexi tried to joke, still dabbing at her eyes and slurping her wine for distraction.

Now Stefan moved to the edge of her chair and put his arm around _her_. “No, sometimes we get _really_ worked up,” he told her dryly.

“Here, here’s your cake,” Damon soothed, pulling the crumbly lump from the basket again. He draped a napkin over Shoshana’s chest to keep the mess from getting on her clothes. “Here’s your lemonade. Don’t you feel better now?”

“I do,” she decided, her tears beginning to dry up. “I’m sorry,” she told Lexi. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! You’re my first vampire visitor and I’m just not sure what to do,” she admitted.

Moving slowly, so as not to alarm Damon, Lexi traded her chair for a seat next to Shoshana on the couch. “It’s alright,” Lexi assured her. “I guess everything’s just new to you. It happens to everyone.”

Shoshana seized her opportunity and hugged Lexi before Damon could stop her. “You’re so nice!” she declared. Lexi’s eyes reddened slightly as she inhaled but she managed to control herself. “I want to hear _all_ about Stefan and Damon when they were younger,” she insisted, with a slightly frightening intensity. Then, “Have you been to Paris lately? Have you seen the new braid they’re doing? Can you do it on my hair? The boys can’t figure it out.” At this Damon rolled his eyes and Stefan looked slightly sheepish.

“Um, I can try,” Lexi agreed, a bit overwhelmed. Shoshana seemed satisfied with this.

“So I was thinking…” Stefan began a moment later.

“Oh boy, here comes trouble,” Damon sighed.

Stefan ignored that. “Lexi said she saw John the Smith in Tunisia a few years ago. Maybe we should—“

Damon saw where this was going and objected immediately. “No. _H—l_ no,” he snapped, sitting up.

“He’s the oldest vampire we know,” Stefan insisted, “who wouldn’t rip us apart on sight.” ‘Us’ really being Damon. “Maybe he would know more about—“

“Are you insane?” Damon interrupted. “We don’t want more people to know about her! She’s a vampire weapon!”

“There’s no need to shout, this is a small room,” Shoshana informed him, and he growled at her.

“Anyone who finds out what she can do for them will try to take her from us,” Damon continued, at a lower volume. “We might be faster and stronger than we _should_ be, but there’s got to be a limit.”

Stefan kind of hated it when Damon made sense. Fortunately this was a rare occurrence. “He does have a point,” he admitted to Lexi.

“Well, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” she shrugged. “No offense,” she added to Shoshana, “but I haven’t really seen much to tell _about_. You’ve got a good-smelling human in the house”—though it hadn’t escaped her notice that she hadn’t needed Shoshana’s invitation to enter—“and _you_ got in a lucky shot,” she finished, narrowing her eyes at Damon.

He rose to the challenge. “Lucky? Sunset, let’s try again, shall we?” he taunted. “And I’ll make _sure_ that you never tell anyone!”

“Damon!” Shoshana chided. “You’re being so rude to my new friend.” Clearly he didn’t care.

“How do you even put up with him?” Lexi sneered. “He’s so… juvenile.”

“Well, he can be very sweet sometimes,” Shoshana judged. Lexi’s expression said this was hard to imagine.

“How about a game of cards?” Stefan redirected.

“That sounds very nice,” Shoshana agreed quickly. “I want to hear all about your travels!” she insisted to Lexi.

Damon was about to object that this discussion wasn’t finished yet, but Stefan stopped him with a look. They could talk again later—maybe when Shoshana and Lexi weren’t around. Of course, he would make sure Shoshana was comfortable with any plan they enacted; but she tended to make things a bit volatile, and that was the last thing needed when trying to have a serious conversation with Damon. Stefan certainly didn’t want to be chased around the world by older, stronger vampires hunting the boost Shoshana provided; but he also wasn’t entirely comfortable just trying to figure things out as they went along, now that he knew something like Shoshana had been seen before. He’d come to care for the girl and he knew Damon had, too; he didn’t want to see her get hurt through their ignorance, their experiments like Damon chasing her. Maybe he would think of some other solution while talking with Lexi later. In the meantime—

“Let’s play,” Damon prompted, digging out the cards. He could afford to be eager; he always cheated anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

_New York City, 1973_

The distinctive sound of someone heaving their guts up echoed through the alleyway, a frantic coughing followed swiftly by the sickening, wet sloshing and a plop as it hit the pavement. Being a New York City alleyway, the vomit did not significantly dirty it, especially as it consisted almost entirely of Jello and vodka.

“It’s an interesting phenomenon,” Damon mused, leaning back against the wall near where Stefan knelt, puking helplessly. “With enough blood in your system, especially Shoshana’s blood, you should be able to digest just about anything. But somehow you managed to pack away enough Jello to overwhelm even _that_.”

“Please stop talking,” Stefan begged, flopping back against the wall. He was panting and his skin glistened with sweat; and considering he didn’t really need to breathe _or_ perspire, that just showed how bad off he was.

“Why?” Damon queried heartlessly. “You’re not doing anything else.” He shifted to a new position and the fringe on his black leather jacket swayed, making Stefan nauseous again. Or maybe that was just a fresh wave of—“Ooh, there we go,” Damon commented, grabbing Stefan and forcing him up so he wouldn’t puke all over his own platform boots. “There’s the green Jello. Knew that was in there somewhere. Don’t sit down yet,” he ordered, crouching before Stefan. “I’m gonna roll these tents you call cuffs up so you don’t trip over them.”

“They’ll look stupid,” Stefan protested weakly.

“Oh, they already look stupid, trust me,” Damon told him matter-of-factly. His own jeans unfortunately still had a flare at the bottom, though far more modest than Stefan’s; it seemed like you simply couldn’t _buy_ normal jeans anymore. “Haven’t I told you to stay away from fads?” He straightened up. “Now if you wanna barf on that shirt, I don’t think anyone would notice.”

“So comforting,” Stefan muttered.

The back door of the nearby club opened, briefly spilling light and disco music into the alley, and Shoshana slipped out, carefully picking her way through the refuse in an effort to spare her white go-go boots. “How is he?” she asked in concern, reaching over to stroke Stefan’s hair.

“I think there’s a little more in there,” Damon judged. “I haven’t seen the orange Jello yet.”

The pink-and-green swirls on Shoshana’s wrap dress seemed to dance before Stefan’s eyes and he spun away suddenly, heaving up another puddle of gelatin.

“There’s the orange,” Damon noted dispassionately, helping him back up. “He might be done now.”

“Poor Stefan,” Shoshana soothed, embracing him. He was careful not to let his face touch her dress or hair. “Do you want to go home now?”

He did. He really did. But being Stefan, he didn’t want to ruin their evening. “Maybe I’ll take a cab,” he suggested wearily. “You two can stay here.”

“Mimi was asking where you were, she seemed very concerned,” Shoshana told him encouragingly. “I think she likes you!”

“Mimi seems nice,” Stefan agreed.

“Mimi’s a skank,” Damon criticized, pulling Stefan off Shoshana before he toppled her over. “Plus, I saw her doing lines in the men’s room. You bite her, you’ll go straight to the stratosphere.”

Stefan shook his head slowly. “I don’t ever want to eat anything again,” he vowed.

“Oh, let’s take him home,” Shoshana decided, rubbing Stefan’s back. “I don’t really like it here, it’s so loud, and sometimes people aren’t very nice.”

“Yeah, your friends are all d—ks,” Damon agreed tactlessly, starting to maneuver Stefan out of the alley with a shoulder under his arm. “Where do you meet these people? They’re pathetic.”

“Well I don’t really _get_ many chances to meet people,” Shoshana reminded him sharply, trailing behind. “You know, Chet said if you would just try to get in touch with your feminine side—“

“Oh my G-d, _I_ may puke,” Damon threatened. “Go hail a cab.”

Shoshana glared but stepped out into the street to flag down a taxi. “Stefan!” said a voice from the direction of the club, and Damon rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the woman approaching them. Unfortunately Mimi was not the type to be pushed aside easily. “Stefan, sweetie, are you okay?”

“No, he’s not okay, he’s about to OD and we’re taking him to the hospital,” Damon lied easily. The multi-colored sheen of Mimi’s dark green hot pants and halter top made Stefan woozy and he tensed, trying to hold back. Sensing this, Damon decided to stay still and let him vomit all over Mimi’s white fur jacket. Well, it was just polyester anyway. “Stefan! When did you get into the lemon Jello?” he chided.

“Sorry,” Stefan replied in a mortified tone.

“Well, gotta go,” Damon decided cheerfully, pushing him into the cab Shoshana had found. “I think you’ve started a new trend!” he called obnoxiously to Mimi, as they left her standing on the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for Shoshana. Thanks for reading!


End file.
